


Cynosure

by prowlish



Series: commissions [11]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Drinking, Fluid Kink, M/M, Oral Sex, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 17:10:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6574777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prowlish/pseuds/prowlish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodimus has an embarrassing problem -- but Drift thinks he's done something to affect their fledgling relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cynosure

**Author's Note:**

> Another commission for a lovely person. :) Thanks a lot, hon, I appreciate your patience! I hope you enjoy this!

It wasn’t until Rodimus’s nervous energy outshone his boredom at being stuck in one place that Drift decided the mech  _ really _ had some kind of problem. Ultra Magnus was giving them a good talking-to about how they both were filing reports incorrectly and how much he  _ disapproved _ of certain font choices and the like. Typical Ultra Magnus stuff.

 

He’d lost track of it about the time Magnus had expressed his apparent offense at some of these fonts; Drift’s focus was on Rodimus, shifting in his seat -- first crossing one leg, then switching to cross the other, his hands squeezing the arms of his chair when he wasn’t fiddling with his own fingers. Magnus frowned ever more deeper at all of this fidgeting and Drift pursed his lips a little; if Magnus got on about Rodimus fidgeting, they’d be here all fragging day.

 

Trying to be subtle, Drift slid his left pede towards Rodimus’s right, trying to nudge him into awareness of just how much he was moving around. Whatever his issue, Rodimus surely wanted a secondary lecture about sitting still as much as Drift did.

 

Instead, Rodimus nearly spooked right out of his plating, drawing his leg away and scooting further from Drift in his seat.

 

Drift slipped his pede back, slumping in his seat, ever more convinced that  _ he _ was the problem.

 

\--

 

On the other side of the office door, they’d exited in silence. Rodimus was still full of that nervous energy -- the kind that Drift could sense wasn’t just from being made to sit still for more than a few moments. Drift reached out, gently settling his hand on Rodimus’s back, right below that damnably tempting spoiler.

 

Rodimus jerked away again, looking troubled, or… Drift couldn’t place it, but it was hard to think past how he felt like his spark had sank to the level of his tanks.

 

Not for the first time, Drift thought:  _ Maybe he doesn’t like that kind of touch in public. _

 

To Drift, there wasn’t much to that -- a bit more intimate than a touch to the shoulder, maybe, but not exactly suggestive. And they’d always been affectionate, even before they’d decided it was more than friendship they wanted. Then he remembered how Rodimus had dodged out of an innocent hand on his shoulder on the bridge and doubted again.  _ Maybe you are the problem, _ a too-familiar part of his mind whispered.

 

Trying not to fret was a failure, but Drift could at least try not to show it. He offered Rodimus a smile as the mech tried to collect himself, making some token remark about what a hard-aft Magnus was. Rodimus was obviously trying to shrug it off, but his agitated movements belied everything.

 

Drift knew what Rodimus looked like when he was itching for escape.

 

_ Escape from you, _ that insidious voice insisted. Drift tried to ignore it, tried to prove it wrong by asking: “Wanna blow off some of that steam?” They had some down time before any duties or obligations resumed. And maybe it was that Rodimus was itching to get out of sight, just for a little while. Drift could definitely get on board with that.

 

The moment he saw Rodimus gnaw on his bottom lip, Drift felt that sinking feeling again. “Sorry, Drift, I… I actually have an appointment.”

 

“An appointment?” He repeated.

 

Rodimus shrugged, offering a nervous laugh. “Yeah, I mean, you can only ignore Ratchet growling into your comms so many times, right…?” 

 

Drift smiled weakly. “Right.”

 

“Yeah. I-I’ll catch you later, promise! Rain check -- that’s what they say on Earth, yeah?”

 

This time, Rodimus didn’t even leave Drift enough time to pointlessly repeat what he’d said; he was gone.

 

\--

 

As it turned out, there was no later. Drift had feared that, but considering all of the swift and shaky excuses he’d been hearing from Rodimus lately, he wasn’t exactly surprised. He sighed as he gazed up at the ceiling of his habsuite.

 

And this latest one? Rodimus willingly going to the medibay for a routine check-up, without Ratchet having to resort to physically hauling him in, or pestering Drift in turn to get their captain to show his face down there? Not likely.

 

Drift tried not to read too much into it. Rodimus had a problem, and it appeared to be connected to him. That much was apparent; Rodimus didn’t exactly possess much in the way of subtlety, and Drift knew him too well, anyway.

 

Or he thought he did.

 

_ Was _ it the PDA? Was it different for Rodimus now that they were “a thing”? 

 

Or was he regretting moving to that point in the first place? 

 

Drift frowned at the smooth ceiling now. Surely that wasn’t it. They were great friends, which had been fulfilling enough, but hadn’t they both been even more thrilled to finally follow through on all their flirtations and -- yes -- casual touches? Hadn’t they been eager that night in their caresses, even hungry?

 

Of that Drift was sure -- Rodimus wasn’t capable of hiding that something was deeply troubling him, he surely wouldn’t have been able to fake the euphoria in his field that night, right?

 

Drift sighed. But it wasn’t  _ just _ the sudden evasion of his touch, was it? 

 

No, underneath that, it was also the fact that they hadn’t ‘faced since that night. Sure, duty shifts kept them busy enough, along with impromptu explorations, and the crises that seemed to just come as part of the ship, but -- after that, after they’d both said yes they wanted more from this, after they’d had a truly fantastic night together -- after that was when the dodging had started.

 

He rolled over, frowning at his swords sitting on their rack. Thinking like this was no good, he knew it. But meditation had been a no-go, and he was finding it significantly difficult to nap.

 

Did Rodimus regret it? That thought hurt, but wasn’t it possible? Drift would be fine going back to being friends with Rodimus and nothing more, if that’s what Rodimus wanted, but this uncertainty was eating him alive.

 

And there was another little voice laughing at him that now he was lying to himself.

 

\--

 

The medibay wasn’t Rodimus’s first stop. No, as too often of late, he’d had to clean himself up first. In truth, he had no appointment, he hadn’t even intended to be sitting here on one of Ratchet’s tables; what he’d told Drift had been purely the first thing he’d thought of, and then it occurred to him -- as much as he didn’t want to speak this personally to Ratchet _ at all _ , well. If any mech could fix him, it was Ratchet.

 

And he  _ really  _ needed this fixed -- not just for his sake, either. Drift might be good at a brave face, but Rodimus could see the sad flicker before the mask went up.

 

Drift knew something was up, and if Rodimus knew him, Drift was probably blaming himself. It wasn’t Drift’s fault that he was malfunctioning!

 

Ratchet finally stepped back in the room and Rodimus felt all thought come to a halt.

 

“Alright,” the medic grunted, coming to stand by Rodimus. “So what’s the problem, now?”

 

Rodimus took in a deep intake, already wincing; there was no non-embarrassing way to put this. He sighed, aware that Ratchet’s gaze hadn’t wavered. “I think my interface equipment is malfunctioning,” he finally managed.

 

Ratchet’s optic ridges shot up at that. “Oh?” He said. And he said no more, but the look clearly said he was wondering what the frag Rodimus had  _ done _ with his equipment to make it malfunction. Which ordinarily might be a fair enough question, but he hadn’t done  _ anything _ ! 

 

Rodimus just reset his vocalizer as he nodded. When he didn’t yet find a way to go on, Ratchet prompted: “Well… what seems to be the issue?” 

 

Rodimus bit his lower lip, fidgeting in his seat again. That damned fidgeting. He couldn’t help it, but it gave him away so much. 

 

Sighing, Ratchet said, “Look, forget about me being a damn ray of sunshine. I’m here as your doctor. Trust me when I say you’re unlikely to surprise me.”

 

Rodimus nodded. And sure, of course he trusted Ratchet to be professional… but that didn’t make it any easier for him to admit. Or make Ratchet’s reputation any less intimidating. “Uh, well. When I -- or rather, when my partner touches me, I… I get aroused.” He scratched his helm, saw the way Ratchet was looking at him, and cleared his vocalizer again. “I - I’m talking about casual touch, doc. Like a hand on the shoulder or waist.”

 

Ratchet grunted. “And by  _ aroused _ you mean…?” 

 

A rare flush warmed his cheeks. “My valve, just… I get so wet I start to leak through my paneling…”

 

To Rodimus, this had been an embarrassing secret he’d been hiding away, but Ratchet looked as if he’d simply heard a weather report. “Alright,” he said, turning to pick up a hand-held scanner. 

 

“Alright?” Rodimus repeated, as Ratchet started the diagnostic.

 

Another personable grunt from the medic. “Well, it could be a number of things,” he said. “But I doubt it’s  _ too _ serious if you aren’t having more severe symptoms. No burning or stinging? Any pain at all?” Rodimus just shook his helm. “Good,” he continued, clearly talking to himself at this point. “Shouldn’t be something to worry about. Probably an overactive fluid duct or something.” 

 

That seemed to be his conclusion, as he stopped the scan and put the hand-held aside. “Are you sure?”

 

Ratchet shrugged. “Not until I get a look myself.”

 

This time Rodimus’s optic ridges were the one to shoot up. “Yourself?”

 

“Well, yeah -- it’s easier to figure out that way. Unless you don’t have time for an exam?” Ratchet paused, considering, before adding: “Or if you’d be more comfortable with Ambulon or First Aid, I can -- ”

 

Rodimus raised a hand to interrupt that thought. “ _ No _ \-- no it’s fine, let’s go on and do it then.”

 

Ratchet nodded, turning and motioning Rodimus along. “The private room is this way.”

 

\--

 

After possibly the most embarrassing exam he’d ever received, complete with a whole round of questions, Rodimus was waiting on Ratchet to re-enter the private exam room. So far, he found nothing obvious; no leaky fluid ducts, nothing out of place or obviously wrong with his valve… 

 

So what the frag was up with this?

 

Ratchet, fortunately, didn’t keep him waiting long. When the medic arrived back, Rodimus sat forward, watching him read from a datapad. It must have been the readout from the main diagnostic computer, where Ratchet had dumped all of the data. Shaking his helm, he flicked the datapad off and tossed it aside on a table.

 

“What?” Rodimus said.

 

“Nothing,” Ratchet said, taking a seat on the nearby stool.

 

“What do you mean, nothing?”

 

Ratchet folded his arms in front of his chestplate, sighing. “I mean: nothing. Nothing abnormal on surface or deep scans, your exam was normal, every diagnostic has said you’re in good health…” 

 

Frowning, Rodimus looked near petulant. “How can that be?” He demanded.

 

A sigh. As if Ratchet had all the problems here! “Do you think you’re maybe making this more than it is?”

 

“What?”

 

Ratchet leaned back in his chair, arching an optic ridge. “Maybe this little loverbot of yours just turns you on that much?” 

 

Rodimus scoffed; not only was he unprepared to ever hear Ratchet speak that sentence in his life, but, well -- could that  _ really _ just be it? “I mean… yeah,” he said. “But don’t you think that’s weird?”

 

Ratchet barked out a laugh. “Trust me, you ain’t seen weird,” he said. “No, it’s definitely in the realm of possibility, and with everything else seemingly eliminated…” He shrugged. “Have you interfaced with him yet?”

 

Rodimus blinked. “Just once,” he admitted. Then  _ this _ had started up, and it had been embarrassing enough that he was leaking out of his panels when Drift ever so simply touched him…! 

 

“Been self servicing to, uh, relieve it?” 

 

Rodimus raised his optic ridges. “I do that anyway, so yeah.”

 

Ratchet look like he’d barely resisted rolling his optics. “Then it’s made no difference, I assume.” The red mech merely shook his helm. “Well then, I’d still go for the simplest explanation.” Letting out another little sigh, he got to his pedes. “If anything goes horribly wrong, you know where I am.”

 

Rodimus shook his helm. “Comforting,” he muttered. 

 

\--

 

Drift gazed around the familiar scenery at Swerve’s. After Alpha shift ended, he had the bar’s lighting steadily dimmed until it was at the low level it was now, assisted by the neon lighting of the engex vats. Other lighting strips mirrored the different colors, only seeming to give the effect of the engex lighting the entire room.

 

Say what they would about Swerve, but he could set an atmosphere.

 

But it wasn’t Swerve’s interior decorating he was here for; about the time his failed nap had started turning into more of a success at a nap, he’d gotten a message from Rodimus, asking to meet here in an hour.

 

It was ‘later’, Drift supposed -- Rodimus hadn’t flaked this time. For some reason, that left him with an ominous feeling settling on his shoulders rather than any sense of relief.

 

He still couldn’t shake the sense that he’d done something seriously wrong with Rodimus and was about to find out all about it now.

 

The wave of a familiar red and gold arm drew Drift’s attention; there was Rodimus, sitting in one of the booths with a couple of drinks already. Drift swallowed, briefly returning the smile that Rodimus sent his way.

 

Now or never.

 

He slipped through the mechs in the path, murmuring an apology for any shoulder bumps or other accidental invasions of space. This wasn’t the bar’s busiest hour, but it usually attracted some crowd, big or not. Still, it was only a few moments before he was sliding into the opposite side of the booth from Rodimus, offering him that little smile once more.

 

Rodimus tilted his helm as he slid the extra drink over to Drift. “You okay?” He asked.

 

Damn. As well as he knew Rodimus, it still worked in the reverse. 

 

Drift gave him another one of those soothing smiles. “I’m fine,” he replied. He fiddled with the lowball, watching the liquid in it waver as his fingers tapped at the glass. “How was your appointment?”

Instantly, Drifit felt bad for asking; if such an appointment had existed, it wasn’t any of his business. And if not, well, one way or another, he got the sense that he was going to find something out tonight. What was the point of being shrewd and trying to catch him in a lie?

 

Except that if it was a lie, as he’d been certain of, then it was even more hurtful.

 

Rodimus fidgeted, gazing at his half-gone drink before looking back up at Drift. “It went… good, I guess,” he said. He was frowning, looking thoughtful -- maybe even troubled.

 

Drift felt another pluck of guilt in his spark at his attempt at slyness. “You guess?” He repeated. 

 

“Well, Ratchet said everything was normal…” And yet Rodimus’s expression didn’t clear a bit.

 

Drift frowned. “And that isn’t a… good thing?” He asked.

 

Rodimus sighed, looking ready to pout when he finally met Drift’s gaze again. “Well, I was hoping… I don’t know.” He shook his helm again.

 

Drift tilted his helm, humming as he finally took a sip of his drink.  _ Strong. _ He cleared his vocalizer, going back to playing with the glass. “You don’t have to answer,” he replied. “It’s between you and Ratchet.”

 

“Well -- no. I mean, it’s related to what I wanted to tell you.”

 

Drift frowned. That… wasn’t what he’d expected to hear. Still, he sat forward attentively. “Really?” He prompted.

 

Rodimus nodded but he still seemed lost in his head. That worried Drift, but he didn’t want to rush the mech, so he just waited. After a moment, Drift tentatively assured: “You don’t have to pressure yourself…” He offered another little smile. “I’m not going anywhere.”

 

The smile was returned, however briefly. “Thanks,” he said softly, taking another gulp of engex as though to steel himself. “It’s -- well. I know you aren’t stupid and I know you notice how I keep, um… vanishing?” He looked to the side, fidgeting with his glass or the kibble on his arms. 

 

Drift made a soft noise of agreement, pursing his lips thin but bringing none of his own emotional mess into it.

 

Rodimus sighed. “Well it’s -- it’s just. I’d get so… excited when you touch me.”

 

Drift’s optic ridges went up. Once again this wasn’t exactly what he expected to hear. “You… what?”   
  


Rodimus seemed to squirm in his seat. “I get really wet,” he said, his voice low as if anyone were listening in on them.

 

“Wet,” Drift repeating, feeling stupid, but he was having a hard time processing this. And then he finally said something else: “Because of me.”

 

“Well… yeah.”

 

Drift hummed, not trying to seem suspicious but he couldn’t let go of the idea that this somehow had to be his fault. Finally he just shook his helm, running a hand over his cheekguard. “Sorry, I just -- wasn’t expecting to hear any of that. So you’ve been ducking out because…”

 

Rodimus grinned sheepishly. “Well, I was embarrassed,” he said. “And, I mean… I’d start leaking.”

 

Now Drift was even more thrown off kilter. “ _ Leaking? _ ” He repeated, perhaps a little louder than he’d meant to from the way Rodimus gave a nervous glance around the room. He kicked Drift’s pedes; Drift felt the tips of his finials flush -- he probably deserved that much. “Sorry,” he murmured, ducking his helm. “It’s just -- it seemed like you’d slip away if I so much as tried to hold your hand. I thought, I dunno… that you maybe regretted being in this sort of relationship with me. Or that I wasn’t very good that night…”

 

“No!” Rodimus said quickly, and then it was his turn to quickly duck his helm and lower his voice. “No, that’s not it at all, Drift, I just. This has never happened to me before, so I didn’t really know what to do….”

 

Drift nodded, an easier smile coming to his lips as he felt a good measure of tension leave his frame. “That’s a relief,” he said, and felt his spark prickle with warmth as Rodimus returned his smile. “You aren’t uncomfortable right now, are you?”

 

Rodimus shook his helm. “Not as long as… you don’t think this is weird or gross or -- “ He stopped as Drift held up a hand.

 

“Well, it’s not like you can help it,” Drift said. Then a wicked smirk curled his lips as he finished off his first drink. “If Ratchet said nothing is wrong, then what, does that mean I just turn you on that much?” Words seemed to escape his captain, so all he got was a nod in reply. “Mm, that’s kinda hot,” he purred.

 

Rodimus sat up straighter, clearing his vocalizer. “Oh,” he said, spoiler wings giving a particularly sharp twitch. “You… really think so?”

 

“Would this face lie to you?” Drift asked, grinning.

 

Rodimus snorted, but he was finally laughing. Good -- it was a good look on him. Still, he made his face serious one last time. “Look… I didn’t mean to make you feel bad or like you were doing something wrong. Just… ever since we said we’re ‘a thing’ I’ve been so happy -- but I’ve never really done a  _ relationship,  _ really. I just don’t wanna mess it up.”

 

Drift smiled. It was pretty new to him, too, but they were good at figuring things out together so far… “It’s alright,” he said. “We’ll keep working through it. Besides… the goal is still to have fun, right?”

 

Rodimus blinked, but then his bright grin was back full force. “ _ Yeah _ , of course,” he said, scoffing like this was obvious.

 

Well, it was. But Drift just turned the wattage up on his own smile. “Then I think we need a few more drinks.”

 

He didn’t think he’d ever seen Rodimus flag down a serving droid so quickly before.

 

\--

 

Drift had been right about the drinks. Just a few more, and Rodimus was giggling and joking like his normal self, wondering why he’d ever been so concerned in the first place about Drift’s reaction to this development! Right now it seemed obvious that of course Drift wouldn’t care, he and Drift had made a habit of accepting and supporting each other, hadn’t they?

 

Yes, that’s why they’d decided they were so good for each other in the first place.

 

But details didn’t matter. What mattered was how warm and inviting it was, snickering at each other’s jokes and remarks as they made their pleasantly buzzed way back to Drift’s habsuite, which was closer. Rodimus had been positively  _ tingly _ since Drift had told him his “problem” was kinda hot.

 

Primus. That was a sure way to tell how bad he had it for the mech at his side. 

 

Rodimus hardly noticed when they got to Drift’s door, barely was aware of the mech putting in his passcode; all of his attention was on Drift -- and the fact that he was feeling a familiar trickle around the seams of his panel. For once he wasn’t running away to hide that -- he didn’t think following Drift into his habsuite (and locking the door behind them) counted as running.

 

If it did, at least this time it wasn’t something that would bother Drift. 

 

This thought’s humor had barely occurred to him, enough to put a stupid grin on his face, when Drift tugged him into a hungry, seeking kiss. That  _ really _ got his overactive valve going, and Rodimus clung to Drift’s shoulders, feeling his knees go weak under a hot pulse of  _ need _ .

 

“Drift,” he gasped, and Drift paused, peering at Rodimus. Rodimus smiled, appreciating Drift’s attentiveness, but he didn’t want anything about this to stop… and yet he still had to ask, even as he felt that trickle starting to make its way down his inner thigh: “Are you… sure you’re okay about it?” And oh frag, he was flushed again, but --

 

But Drift just smiled, and instead of answering, he showed off the strength hidden in his compact frame by lifting Rodimus and sitting him on the berth.

 

Before the red mech could utter another word, Drift leaned down between his spread legs and tasked himself with lapping up the lubricant that had been making a little bit of a mess on his inner thighs and around the seams of his valve panel. Rodimus squeaked out a little  _ “oh!” _ , his vents picking up in quick pants as Drift got him even hotter than before, his plating practically quivering in anticipation.

 

The irony, of course, was that now he was steadily leaking from behind his panel -- until he finally couldn’t stand it anymore and let it fold open. Drift paused only a moment, as though savoring the sight of Rodimus’s open valve, before he pressed forward again and gently teased his glossa though the soaked components.

 

A full-frame shudder accompanied Rodimus’s moan. He cried out his lover’s name again, vent cycles going up another tick as he squirmed and finally laid back on his elbows. It felt amazing, but  _ watching _ Drift was just as much a treat -- and Drift was lapping at his valve like it was the best thing he’d tasted all night.

 

That thought made him smile, but he finally squeezed his optics shut with another sound of pleasure when Drift’s lips reached his anterior node.

 

Oh  _ scrap _ . Rodimus’s fingers dug into the berth topper, gasping and squirming as charge pulsed wildly through his frame. Drift’s hands pinned his legs, keeping him from going much of anywhere, and frag if that wasn’t insanely hot, too!

 

All Drift had to do was keep him pinned that way and kiss and lick his anterior node for a little longer, and Rodimus was swept away in overload with a loud moan.

 

He lost track of the next few moments, but the roar of his vents seemed to drown out everything until he opened his optics again.  _ Then _ he was treated to seeing Drift licking the very same fluids that had been making Rodimus’s life so difficult for the past few weeks right off his lips like they were some delicacy he couldn’t get enough of.

 

Heat melted his insides, and not even close to tiring him out, that overload only made him eager for  _ more _ .

 

It only took a couple of tugs to get Drift to slip up even with his frame, and Rodimus kissed him as hungrily as Drift had kissed him just a few moments ago. Drift hummed against his lips and seemed content just to kiss him for several long moments. 

 

Or at least, until Rodimus started squirming again. Drift let out an amused snort. “Ready for more?” he purred, nipping at Rodimus’s audio.

 

Excited heat bubbled up his backstruts again and Rodimus grinned. “Oh yeah,” he murmured.

 

Drift grinned in return and kissed Rodimus again, a hand slipping between his legs, fingertips teasing through Rodimus’s comically wet interface as though testing his readiness. Rodimus pushed his hips into Drift’s hand, and Drift frustratingly pulled his touch away -- though he could feel the mech smiling against his lips.

 

Tease! 

 

He almost accused Drift of it, too, until he suddenly felt the tip of Drift’s spike just barely nudging at the slick opening of his valve. Rodimus hadn’t even known Drift had opened his own panels -- not that he’d complain. In fact, his only complaint was that Drift was still there, like waiting for an invitation.

 

Making sure he was still comfortable. Rodimus would croon over Drift being a sweetheart later; right  _ now _ he was about to burn up with desire.

 

“C’mon!” Rodimus gasped breathlessly, rocking his hips and getting it  _ partially _ done for the mech.

 

Drift let out his own moan -- and  _ that _ sound sent hot thrills straight to Rodimus’s core -- and pushed his hips forward, sinking the rest of the way into the red mech’s valve, drawing a delighted groan from Rodimus’s lips.

 

And despite how hot and heavy they’d rolled into this, when Drift  _ really _ started moving and picking up a rhythm, it was -- almost careful. Not too slow, but definitely gentle, and if he was brave enough to look Drift in the optics, he’d see quite a bit more care and affection than he might expect from their second time interfacing.

 

Just the second time! And yet they were so natural with each other that it felt like they’d done this countless times before.

 

Rodimus panted heavily, clinging to Drift and meeting each thrust with a grind of his hips. For another moment, he got to gazing right at Drift for what felt like  _ too _ long -- Primus, he wasn’t used to this, the sweetness or the intimacy, and yet he felt he never wanted anything else, now. WrapTping his arms even tighter around Drift’s shoulders, he shuttered his optics to give himself relief from the mech’s gaze and pulled him into a sweet kiss.

 

This time Drift seemed to  _ ease _ him into overload; it was as gentle as his touch and his steady thrusts, pulling Rodimus into gentle waves of warmth and bliss. Feeling Drift overload seemed like just another level of his own pleasure, and the sound Rodimus made was more of a whine than a shout. 

 

Not that Drift seemed to mind, either way.

 

Was there anything the swordsmech wouldn’t accept about him with that smile and sweet attitude? And did he really deserve that?

 

Well, he wouldn’t dwell on  _ that _ kind of question -- not when it was clear that Drift was happy being here with him, with how his field was blanketing him with contentment and the same affection he’d seen in Drift’s optics.

 

Speaking of. Rodimus finally onlined his optics again, and -- there was that damned smile again. 

 

“Did that answer your question?” Drift hummed, clearly teasing him as he settled down, drawing Rodimus into his embrace. 

 

“Huh?”

 

Drift snorted, amused, and earning himself a little pout from Rodimus. Not that there was too much real ire or energy in the expression; he was too blissed in the afterglow.

 

“You kept asking if I was sure I was okay with your ‘condition’,” Drift teased. 

 

Rodimus hummed, his optics glittering with a familiar mischief. “I don’t know,” he said. “I think we might have to test it a few more times.”

 

The bright, clear sound of Drift’s laugh warmed Rodimus to his very spark casing.

**Author's Note:**

> visit me on [@prowlish](https://twitter.com/prowlish) on twitter!! :)


End file.
